Colorful traditional costumes, lively bagpipe music and tasty heart-warming food delicacies: welcome to “Chodské slavnosti”, one of the biggest and oldest folk festivals in the Czech Republic.

Every year in the first weekend after 10th August (St. Laurence´s day), the charming historic town of Domažlice (around 40 km south of Pilsen) dresses herself in red ribbons and white laces to host a very enjoyable kermesse of performances of the Chods people: originally free peasants, the locals were asked to carry out an armed guard service of the western Bohemian border and above all guarantee the safety of the lucrative trade route leading to the Bavarian town of Furth im Wald. For this service, in the 14th century over 300 families acquired royal privileges and an outstanding position in the feudal system, in particular personal freedom and servitude only to the king.

The most notable heritage of a rich historic background are the colorful dresses “kroj”, red and white with colorful aprons with different hairdo according to the marital status for the ladies, and sleek yellow trousers with elegantly decorated blue vests for the gents . ​We were particularly fascinated by entire families wearing the full-scale costumes, including delightful caps for toddlers and even dolls wearing the Chods outfits, offering scenes straight out of a 300 years old countryside tale.

A truly interesting and touching moment is the Sunday morning mass celebrated on the shady field in front of the church of St. Laurence with commanding views over scenic rolling hills. With a twist of historic irony, the same town was the setting of the shocking, final defeat of the Catholic crusaders against the proto-protestant Hussite movement: on 14th August 1431, the imperial army was besieging Domažlice but panicked hearing the battle hymn of Hussite forces "Ktož jsú boží bojovníci"("Ye Who are Warriors of God"). Even the papal legate Cardinal Giuliano Cesarini fled and lost his whole outfit, luggage and secret correspondence. The Chods are currently fervently catholic, in a Country ranking among the world´s most atheistic. Power of centuries of fierce counter-reformation persecutions by the Jesuits…

The festival is intimately connected with the more prosaic “Vavřineckou pout” or St. Laurence´s Fair, devoted to local folk music and dance groups: 5 stages with over 20 kinds of performance and a plethora of the typical typical “Chodský koláč”, rounded cakes with creamy topping with plum jam and poppy seeds. For the real taste of the rich local cuisine in a truly friendly environment, the atmospheric tavern Historická krčma U Meluzíny is a must.

Of course we didn´t miss the chance to continue our epic quest to visit all the hundreds of Czech breweries: directly at the fair, Pilsen´s Purkmistr brewery served hoppy 12° directly from a magnificent vintage “Praga” truck, once the backbone of the Czechoslovak public transport network.

Right in front of Horšovský Týn castle, KH Gurman brews quite average 10° and 12°, a good starting point for a rewarding 50-km biking trip across dense forests and rolling hills towards Bizon in Čižice: just 10 km south of the beer capital Pilsen, this cyclist-friendly restaurant makes a hoppy 11° (my personal favorite of the trip), a (too) bitter amber 13° and the best pickled “nakladani hermelin” cheese of the season. Coming back soon for more gourmet adventures !

​An Icelandic waterfall? A Patagonian glacier? A sneak preview of “Game of Thrones” set? Nope , much easier : “Panská skála” or “Manor Rock” also called “Varhany“ (organ) is an impressive hillock in Prácheň, a small village 130 km north of Prague and a wonderful day trip through Melnik castle and the scenic road to Česká Lípa.These picturesque amphitheatre of volcanic rocks are the result of a lava stream which emerged 30 million years ago from a depth of 30 km, forming pentagonal and hexagonal columns up to 20 meters in length. It constitutes one of the oldest natural reserves in Europe and a good aperitif to explore the natural wonders of nearby “České Švýcarsko” (Czech Switzerland) national park.

On our epic quest to visit all the 348 (and growing) breweries of the Czech Republic we ventured to the far north of the Country, deep into the former “Sudetenland”: a land of deep forests and turbulent historic memories.Before WW2, the northern, southwest, and western border regions of Czechoslovakia were inhabited principally by German-speaking people, which left a peculiar signature in the typical flint roofs, triple wooden arches and decorated facades of the country houses, and a plethora of magnificent bourgeois villa. The area was particularly rich due to mines and advanced glass factories, where some of the best examples of the “Bohemian crystals” were produced, mostly for international markets.

The region was the focus of a particularly tense border dispute with ambitions Nazi Germany, which induced the Czechoslovak government to build thousands of infantry and artillery bunkers all along the border during 1936-1938, mostly hidden in dense forests. ​Following the infamous Munich Agreement of 1938, Nazi Germany formally annexed Sudetenland and these technically advanced military structures were untouched. Some bunkers were partially destroyed by the German army training in preparation for the invasion of Northern Europe, but in most cases they remain nowadays in pristine conditions. Some bunkers are almost chewed away by the forest as in a bohemian Angkor, some (like Hůrka, Bouda, Hanička fortresses) are wonderfully preserved as museums. But that´s the story for our next reportage “Bike, Beer & Bunkers in the Eagle´s mountains”.

The sleepy village of in Doubice offers a condensed time-travel experience without computer graphics: traditional farms, a wooden firemen tower, and above all the unique “Stara Hospoda” which welcomes you with a stunning array of surrealistic wooden sculptures inspired by the bohemian folk traditions. Great place to enjoy a tasty gulash and krkovice amidst a bewildering collection of vintage collectibles including an array of weaponry and serious rockets worth an army museum.

During the socialist years and in recent times, the whole area suffered from the closure of many mines and a general economic recession, with a high rate of unemployment. As in many other cases around the country, also most of the breweries were either nationalised or run out of business, such as Pivovar Česká Kamenice: the once imposing facility is almost fell into ruins but it is currently under renovation and recently re-opened a small restaurant, pizzeria (not too bad considering the rest of local food offers…) and “Palírna” (distillery) where they serve hoppy and pleasant 10° and 12° pilsner.Another interesting spot but with a totally different look is Křinický pivovar in Krásná Lípa, a new and stylish brewery-restaurant which brews an interesting array of Falkenštejn-brand beer, from the classic pilsner, amber to coffee-tasting dark, Stout and a variety of seasonal brews.

However, the heavyweight in this remote appendix of Bohemia is Pivovar Kocour in Varnsdorf .Their peculiarity is to offer a wide range of beer specials, from strong American-style lagers to top fermented beers like weizen, stout, saison, pale ale. It is impossible to try them all, also because (unfortunately) they do not offer beer tasting and the staff is not particularly helpful in recommending choices. So the best way is to grab some small beers, go for a walk around their mini-farm (beware the black swans, the male is very protective!) and bring home some more bottles with the funky tomcat logo, as we did. Stay tuned for more Cook & Meet gourmet experiences!

With Tarifa was love at first sight: sunshine, energy, atmosphere, relaxed but not sleepy, active but not frenetic. And as soon as we started to explore the scenic area nearby, the feeling grew even deeper.We ventured along the aptly named “Costa de la Luz” (Coast of light) northward, in a magnificent sequence of rolling hills covered with ridiculously green pastures where placid cattle spend a quite enviable existence under vigorous windmills: the whole scenery is remarkably Alpine, which sounds weird considering that we are a few hundred meters from the Atlantic Ocean. The whole horizon looks at the same time peaceful and surreal, like a human outpost in an alien although welcoming new planet.

Many times I went to a place just following the evocative charm of its name, like “Babilonia” in the Czech Republic (not as memorable as my school memories had suggested) or “Batman” in eastern Anatolia (the few local shepherds being unaware of the batcavesque potential of their rock dwellings). A road sign pointing to “Atlanterra” triggers images of muscular giants and pounding waves and fierce whalers and off we go: we cross the sleepy village of Zahara de los Atunes, and if “tunas” are in the name, it must mean something positive for our crave of a proper seafood lunch! Again, that scary, bone-shattering suspicion of being in the right place at the wrong time: many inviting restaurants look at me behind closed shutters, I feel like Clint Eastwood´s Blondie in a deserted ranch of “The good, the Bad and the Ugly”. ​Even a straw ball rolls towards me. Ennio Morricone plays his tunes. I sharpen my eyes towards the horizon, dazzled by the blast of light surging from the beach, and I spot the silhouette of a galleon: an hallucination, the ghost of the mythical 4th lost caravel of Christopher Columbus?

Getting closer, the ship turns out to be the signboard of “El Galeon”, a delightful beach restaurant (open!) where we indulge in what so far is the best meal I ever had in the Peninsula Iberica. A rich, colourful, delicious “arroz marinero” blessed with shrimps, octopus, tuna, cod, clams and mussels and served with the best side dish of the planet: professional courtesy and an unbeatable beach panorama. ​They don´t call it “paella” since the term is rightfully reserved to the Valencia dish prepared with local and seasonal farmer´s vegetables, rabbit and chicken, served rigorously only for lunch. It is so good that we decide to return again in a few days for exactly the same dish, being as well a perfect break on the way to or from Jerez de la Frontera.

The abundant rice pan, deep fried (of course) “tortilla de langostinos”, sweet wine from Malaga and the aftermath of Soul café´s drinks in Tarifa invite to some afternoon hike from Los Caños de Meca towards the “faro de Trafalgar”: a windy beachhead dominated by a scenic lighthouse made famous by the naval engagement fought in 1805 by the Royal Navy against the combined fleets of the French and Spanish Navies during the Napoleonic wars. The same waves once crossed by Lord Nelson´s “Victory” flagship slashing enemies hulls, are now the playground of dozens, hundreds of kite surfers looking like doped butterflies. Wind, sun, sand, a clear feeling of having reached the end of the world from where “those magnificent men on their sailing machines” ventured towards the light.

The magnificent coastal area around Tarifa offers a choice of delightful hikes: one of our favourite is a short walk to the gigantic sand dunes of Bolonia for a Saharan feeling and the 1st bath of the year (not bad for the beginning of February in Europe!), just in front of the Roman ruins of Baelo Claudia. The city was particularly thriving under Emperor Claudius (41-45 AD) thanks to the fish-salting facilities, from which the popular Roman delicacy, "garum" was distributed to the whole Roman Empire. This fish paste was prepared with heads, entrails and roe and used as gourmet cooking sauce, in particular if made from mackerel, while tuna was for second-rate product.To our modern palate it might taste like a Monty Python´s larks' tongue or wrens' livers, but in the ancient Rome it was regarded as a top notch treat.

The king of local hikes is undoubtedly the 18-kms coastal trail of “Colada de la costa y del camino de Algeciras” in the Natural park of the Strait: a 5-hours endeavour rewarded by breath-taking views of Gibraltar rock and the Moroccan coast, the discovery of a line of WW2 bunkers and very unusual slabs of gigantic and almost vertical rock formations.To complete a perfect day, finish your hike with the delicious tapas and a few chilled Cruz Campo “El Tapeo” in Tarifa, THE place to be in town.

With my eyes closed, “the day after”, I still see the blast of friendly light from the Atlantic when we approach the beach of Tarifa: the ocean shines like liquefied steel, the wind blows endlessly for the exhilarating joy of dozens of surfers riding the waves like scooters and looking with (I assume) deep envy at the centaurs zipping by, pulled by their kites.The shore is barren, no sign of sunbeds and of the usual paraphernalia of facilities catering the lobsterized skins of the north European pensioners flocking the Mediterranean coast nearby like tired migrating birds.

As soon as I mentioned the name of this southernmost corner of Europe, an old friend replied “ah, Tarifa, our youthful myth… is it true that every hour a ship loaded with “smoke” arrives from Morocco”? Well, actually the elegant and quite futuristic ferries arrive at regular intervals and they smoke a bit, but most probably the cultural reference of at least 2 generations of a certain alternative Italian sub-culture does not lie in pistons or propellers: maybe it is just a coincidence, but while strolling on the endless empty beach we stumbled across a small plastic envelope containing a piece of “surfer´s bud ”, which we politely left in the sand.

And judging by the number of Italian pizzerias and restaurants in the maze of alleys of the city center, I am sure that many a visitor decided to spend their post-adolescence years in this sunny Riviera. We enter “BarAonda”, a friendly-looking bar just off the shabby remain of a bunker – fort and we even the taps of the day are suspiciously Italian “parmigiana de berenjena” (aubergine parmigiana style) and “carpaccio”, and we indulge in a few Alhambra beers which we judge to be quite stronger than the omnipresent Cruzcampo. There are plenty of ways to spot tourists from locals, like the single eyebrow of Spanish men and the “too many colors” of their ladies´ clothes, however the funniest is their look of dismay and confusion while looking for a place, any place, to eat at the normal non-Spanish hours.They frenetically check their watches and stare at the closed shutters of the many restaurants laying elbow to elbow, covered inviting seafood menus and piles of empty chairs, and think “what the hack, it is 1 pm and there is no chance for lunch? Not yet, or not any more?” Understanding the concept of “siesta” sounds easy to say, but a few times we passed in front of a restaurant packed with people having lunch at 5 pm, then (maybe) opening for dinner from 10 pm or not opening at all, trying to get a beer in the afternoon when all the bars close down like in an improvised profane Ramadan.

The choice of the tapas bar is as usual dictated by the vibe of the place, and “La Antigua” turns out to be a cosy spot for filled jalapenos (deep fried, as everywhere, it defies my understanding the stubborn habit of getting some fresh and tasty ingredients, and drown them in burning oil), “twister de langostinos” (a shrimp roll looking like a Nosferatus´ finger) and some delicious mini-choritos served swimming in orange honey. We migrate to the liveliest pub in town, “Soul Café” (which will become our favourite hang out for the Friday nights live gigs), where everyone spends a noisy and alcohol-fuelled night in this ancient Moorish court with live music and dj sets. Time to crash in the bed, still with the blaze of the ocean under my eyelids.

The first food we see in the morning in Tarifa are baskets full of super-fresh sea urchins sold at street corners, but it´s a bit too early for an orange spoonful. We prefer a local bakery already showing clear, sweet signs of vicinity with Morocco in the sheer amount of honey and almonds used for the colourful cookies. For a light and tasty lunch, just pick up a lively bar outside of the Moorish city walls, where prices are even more affordable and the mood is totally local. Our favourite by (very) far is “El Tapeo”, which every day offers a different selection of 10 tapas including excellent octopus salad , magnificent grilled squids, green peppers filled with tortillas, crunchy breaded fish fillets and more delights, with the best topping: a very friendly service and lively atmosphere.Only locals fills the noisy room and the street tables of this perfect late lunch spot where we regularly eat for less than 5 € each including 2 beers and 3 delicious tapas. So far, among the best food we had in Spain.

It is beautiful to see how different generations and social classes melt in these bars, old ladies sipping a white wine elbow to elbow with wannabe hipsters and surfers while overfed children roam around chased by overfed mamas and happy-looking dogs.Later on, you can soak the afternoon sun and listen to some good music in the courtyard of “El Murciano”, head for a stroll or some scenic jogging along the wooden beach path and relax in “Café del Mar” to watch the world go by, play with sparrows and listen to quality chill-out music. Just a warning: after the second “caña” of Cruz Campo, San Miguel or Estrella Galicia beer, you won´t leave your chair or couch for any reason in the world.

The word "sherry“ always brought to my mind images of old English ladies clad in blankets sipping an ultra-sweet alcoholic nectar while out of their Edwardian windows, a Wuthering Heights thunderstorm rages.After visiting Jerez the la Frontera, the birthplace of this noble fortified wine, the indelible memory will be quite opposite: lively music bars and cosy cobblestone streets packed with a relaxed youth enjoying small (don´t forget it contains up 16 percent alcohol content... ) glasses of chilled wines with all possible shades of colours and flavours.Finding your way through the many varieties is metaphorically as complicated, and at the same enjoyable if you are not in a hurry, as understanding the intricate maze of streets of the convoluted medieval city center.Downtown Jerez hosts more sherry “bodegas” (wineries) than you can handle in even a week of furious and fanatic tasting, from the giant global enterprises with flamboyant visitor centres and cathedral-like halls lined with tens of thousands of barrels, to picturesque “tabanco” bars.

The choice depends on your interest in wines and your general style of travelling: beginners and cruise-holiday fans will enjoy the red tourist train of Gonzales Byass and its ubiquitous “Tio Pepe” silhouette, while a Bodegas Fundador Pedro Domecq grants a slightly deeper understanding of sherry culture thanks to a small museum and the usual cornucopia of giant barrels signed by international celebrities and dedicated to blue-blooded including the last king of Italy.Founded in 1730, this winery is located in the heart of the medieval quarter and it is the oldest in town, embellished by shady patios and lush gardens around charming historic cellars, the most notable of which being the mighty “bodega mezquita” or "mosque winery": an overwhelmingly colossal and at the same time elegant storage hall built in 1974.​Originally called “La Gran Bodega", it contains all types of soleraje produced by Fundador in over 40.000 barrels with 600 litres each, meaning a stunning 2.4 million litres of sherry and countless daily refills with the solera system. Thanks to the hundreds of single and double horseshoe arches typical of Moorish medieval architecture and to its extraordinary dimensions ​​(over 25.0000 sqm or 4 football pitches), the cellar was quickly nicknamed “the mosque” and truly reminded me of the famous mosque-cathedral of Cordoba, an experience in itself.

For the true wine lovers, we warmly recommend Emilio Lustau, winner of many international awards for “Best Spanish Wine Producer” and “Best Sherry Producer”.Mr Juan Mateos Arizón, who accompanied me in an exclusive private visit to the elegant, atmospheric cellars and offered a complete wine tasting, greets me with these magic words: “here we make great wines, not gadgets for tourists”. Music for my ears. The creator of their extensive range of true oenological gems is the oenologist Mr Manuel Lozano, holder of the title of “Best Fortified Winemaker” for 6 consecutive years, a true authority in the field, and we will soon discover why.The beginning of a sherry career is quite easy: the local Palomino and Pedro Ximenez grapes cultivated in a scenic region bordered by the Quadalquivir river and the Atlantic Ocean are turned into still white wines and aged for 2 years by the local producers, called “almacenista”, and then sold to the major exporting sherry producers.​The origins of bodega Lustau are exactly there: Mr Ruiz-Berdejo in 1896 started to make wines in his spare time as almacenista, until his son-in-law, Mr Emilio Lustau Ortega, in 1940 moved the bodega into the present buildings which formed part of the ancient Moorish city walls. Inside these shady vaults, the complex system of “Solera y Criaderas” and the expert addition of extra alcohol turns winemaking into art.

Wines of different levels of aging rest inside endless rows of oak barrels adjusted in 3 levels: the wine ready for bottling is taken from the lower range of barrels (the “solera”), and is replaced by hand at regular intervals with wine from the row immediately above, known as “first criadera” and so on with the upper level. According to the amount of alcohol added to the wine, the type of ageing can be “biological”, when the wine is covered by a natural veil of yeast (the typical “flor”) encouraged by the damp coastal climate preventing the contact with the air, or “oxidative” when the action of the air generates different levels of oxidation and consequent colour, taste, aroma. The most prominent characteristic of the dry sherry wines (which are by far the most appreciated by the locals) is the sharp contrast between a promise of intense, even excessive sweetness suggested by the delicate aroma, and the remarkably bone-dry, almost sharp taste, especially if drank without food pairing: an experience which many beginners might find unpleasant, turning them to easier wines or to the sweet variations, which are reserved almost exclusively to tourists and for export markets.

The pungent aroma and mildly acid taste of pale straw-coloured “Fino” is very peculiar and, to be fair, should better appreciated chilled at 7-9° and paired with fish dishes and seafood. “Fino” is by far the most popular of varieties all among the locals, straight or diluted with lemonade to make 'rebujito' at ferias, while the elusive “Manzanilla” is aged only in Sanlúcar de Barrameda and retains a hint of sea aroma due to the proximity of the ocean: a specific feature which is quite remarkable in Lustau´s “Puerto Fino”, deserving a dish of oysters to be fully appreciated.“Amontillado” starts its life as Fino or Manzanilla with 3 years of biological aging, then the subsequent oxidation donates a deeper amber colour and richer and nuttier aromas. Served slightly chilled at 13-14° with dried fruits, consomme´, white meats, artichokes, truffles, is a perfect match for spicy Asian cuisine.“Palo Cortado” also undergoes both types of ageing for 12 to 15 years, and its great complexity would deserve a chapter in itself, since many producers proudly maintain that its origin is mysterious and basically can not be produced under control: “”it just happens” starting out as a Fino, but the flor yeast fails to develop. Less popular and rarer than the other variations, it offers the richness in the mouth of an Oloroso with the delicate aromas of an Amontillado, recommended with red meats and dried fruits.My personal favourite among the dry sherries is “Oloroso”, which acquires its caramel colour and intense aroma through years of ageing in barrel and natural air oxidation. Paired with jamon Iberico, stew, game dishes or aged sheep cheese, it can easily accompany your whole evening in a lively bar from pungent aperitif to refreshing digestive.​Lustau´s “Oloroso Imperatriz Eugenia” was established in 1921 to commemorate the visit to Jerez of the last Empress of France and is rightfully rated among the best in the world.

Entering the realm of sweet sherry means crossing the threshold between a youthful music bar and a cosy patisserie: “cream” is a blend of dry Oloroso with very sweet “Pedro Ximenez” wine, reserved almost exclusively to export and best appreciated as a chilled aperitif with ice and a slice of orange. In some bars you can find something called “vermouth” poured out of unmarked bottles, and I had the clear feeling it came from mixing all the leftovers from any bottle around, a reminder of the epic hysteric crisis scene in “Sideways”.At the sweetest end of sherry family we find 2 wines made from peculiar grape varieties: “Moscatel” blessed by a remarkable floral aromas with citrus notes, a perfect match for fruit-based desserts; and “Pedro Ximenez”, whose grapes are laid out in the sun until they practically turn into raisins, generating a very rich, for someone excessively sweet nectar recommended with foie gras and creamy desserts.

After accumulating such an extensive knowledge of the history and technique of sherry-making, it is time to enjoy a proper “tabanco”, a traditional sherry bar whose name is a blend of “estanco” (a state controlled shop) and “Tabaco”, which became popular alongside the establishments themselves in the 17th century. Among the few of them left, “El Pasaje” is a true Jerez institution: a temple of informal and lively enjoyment of more and less known brands together with basic tapas (we recommend their cured meat and cheese platter paired with “Oloroso”) and above all regular flamenco performances on Saturday.

Oh, the fine art of marking the orders on the wooden board of a messy “tabanco” with a chalk butt and constantly adding and cancelling with a wet fist and overwriting and spilling beer and cleaning chorizo grease and rewriting E = mc2 instead of Fino glasses count and forgetting who ordered what and asking you with a smile over and over again what you actually ordered and at the end is fine to watch and nobody cheats because prices are so ridiculously low that you spend the whole evening with 6 tapas and a dozen glasses for 20 € and a great flamenco concert with unpayable pathos, ​OLE ´ !

Landing in Malaga in a sunny, warm January afternoon quickly melts away my early morning memories of a gloomy, frozen central European airport : a short train ride (punctual and cheap with friendly staff, good start) and we dip into the atmosphere of downtown like an impatient dolphin just escaped from a cold fishbowl. All the shops are closed for the usual long “siesta” but nevertheless everything looks so lively and welcoming that it is hard to imagine how the streets will look like with the late evening “movida”.The perfect way to tune-in with the Mediterranean climate is a relaxing bath in the lovely “Hammam El Andalus”, a modern establishment which carefully and elegantly recreates the intimate delights of “Baños Árabes”: far from a tourist trap (actually over 70% of the clients are locals), the elegant pools and steam baths feel like a world apart and the 2 hours of the delightful treatment pass simply too fast. We can finally experience first-hand the blissful atmosphere of the ancient baths, heritage of Roman and Moorish habits, which constituted both a secluded and discreet meeting point and the ritual religious ablution in the heart of the Alcazar.

Every street corner can offer an improvised flamenco guitar show so we let the instinct guide us in the maze of attractive streets winding around the shining avenue Calle Marqués de Larios, where we spot the (very) pink and very cute “Café´Lepanto”, which we immediately elect as tomorrow´s breakfast spot, the pastries are simply irresistible!We decide to indulge in the Arabic reminiscence of the ancient Moorish kingdoms with a tasting dinner at “Mosaico” restaurant, topped by an unusual “pastela” chicken pie decorated with (overwhelmingly) abundant amount of cinnamon and sugar...mmhhh… “interesting”. The young crowds start to fill the street and the restaurants at 10 pm but, blame the early morning wake-up call, we decide to save our energies for next day´s exploration of the Alcazaba, the city´s most important landmark.

The Alcazaba is the best-preserved Moorish fortress palace in Spain: constructed on the ruins of a Roman fortification in the 8th century by the first Emir of Cordoba, its original purpose was as a defence against pirates, thanks to its commanding position with views over the city and all the way to Africa. ​The imposing walled city retains a distinct feel from its more famous, younger neighbours, the Alcazar of Sevilla and the Alhambra of Granada build three centuries afterwards. Most notably, a much lower amount of tourists, which guarantee a quite intimate and peaceful visit, strolling around shady gardens, cuddled by the constant flow of water thanks to an ingenious system of gutters and pipes and enjoying magnificent views over the harbour and the flamboyant baroque Cathedral.

The main food market "Atarazanas" is a masterpiece starting from its elegant glass and cast iron building, completely renovated in 2010: crossing the ancient Moorish gate is like entering an enchanted realm of exotic flavours, a kaleidoscope of familiar although surprising colours and shapes: giant bowls of „zuvvapa iberica“ and chorizo drenched in orange fat, Noah arks overflowing all kinds of olives and pickled vegetables, the whole Atlantic and Mediterranean sea stranded on lively stalls where expert hands manage fish with the deadly elegance of a ninja. Unlike other famous markets like “La Boquería” in Barcelona or “Mercado de San Miguel” in Madrid which became a gastronomical showcase, Atarazanas market still retains an authentic and low-key local verve.

Grazing tapas along the many stalls is undoubtedly the best way to enjoy this unique bazar of taste and perfumes: we started at the “Marisqueria El Yerno”, tempted by the juicy and spicy “pincho de gambas a la plancha” (prawns skewers) with the chef´s secret smoked peppers powder, grilled calamari, “boquerones al limón“ (anchovies with lemon), “pulpo” (octopus salad), “jibia” (cuttlefish), delicate “vieiras” (scallops), super-fresh oysters and razor clams “navajas”. The best advice is to follow your instinct, check where and what the locals eat and, if you are attracted by the look of some dish, just point it out at the waiter, get a tasting “tapa” or a full “ración” and start chatting with everyone around in all possible languages. Tapas are inexpensive (around 1 to 5 Euros), so plenty of options for an affordable and memorable self-driven culinary journey.

According to the Spanish culinary bonton, eating paella for dinner sounds as sinful as sipping a cappuccino after lunch for an Italian, so indulge in your paella before leaving this heaven with your third or fourth “copa” of crisp Cruzcampo or Alhambra beer and a last sip of Málaga fortified wine, a nectar created by marrying Moscatel and Pedro Ximénez grapes.​We will re-plan our staying in Spain just to have one more go in this place, but now time to head towards the heart of Andalusian white villages and the “Frontera” !

If you have been in Prague during Christmas time, for sure you have noticed those huge rounded metal tanks full of splashing carps and the locals lining to choose the fish to bring home, sometimes kept in the bath tub until the family Advent dinner. Sometimes these carps receive a nickname by the family as a pet, sometimes they try to escape and, by hitting the water tap, flood the house while the owners are away (it happened to a friend of mine). These lively animals are part of one of the most ancient and typical nutritional and cultural events of the Czech Republic: the so called “výlov”, or “fish harvest”.The flat countryside around the medieval town of Třeboň in south Bohemia is dominated by dozens of man-made “rybníky “ fishponds part of an intricate and extremely ingenious waterworks network built in the 16th century on the Luznice river by the brilliant Czech engineer Jakup Krcin for the local rulers, the famous noble family Rožmberk.

The monumental dam of the Rybník Rožmberk, the largest fishpond in the Czech Republic, is lined with old oak trees, a 2400 meters long technical wonder deserving a nomination in the UNESCO Heritage list as home for many endangered species of flora and fauna like the sea eagle and the Eurasian otter.​Together with other 460 fishponds, this area is the kingdom of breeding freshwater fish, the most popular of which being carp (“kapr”), catfish (“sumec”) which can reach biblical proportions, the prelibate “candát” , the aggressive pike (“štika”) and occasionally eel (“úhoř”)These ponds are harvested every two years, in order to allow the fish to reproduce , and in October – November the “výlov” is unleashed: the ponds are emptied over several weeks thanks to the ingenious network of channels, the professional fishermen on small boat beat the water with sticks to force the fish in the area close to a specific harbour-like area, where they are collected with nets, manually sorted according to species, size and weight (the most valuable being in the range of 2 – 2.5 kg) and gathered in water tank trucks. The fish is then transported to clean water ponds to purify themselves from the murky water and the consequent potentially unpleasant flavour, and get ready to join the Christmas celebrations.

The fishing culture is particularly lively in Bohemia, with dedicated high schools for fishing and ponds´ management and a rich pagan population of water spirits, most notably the “vodnik” or water man popular all over eastern Europe and Russia: as the “Wassermann” or “nix” of German fairy tales, it often means as well the Aquarius zodiac sign. Although depicted as a quite peaceful and meditative, greenish frog-eyed old man covered in algae and muck smoking its long pipe, he can cause havoc breaking dams and destroying water mills. Most dangerously, he enjoys playing melodies to attract people to his underwater dwelling, steal their souls and collect them in jars. The more the “jarred souls”, the bigger his reputation among the “vodniky” population.During this traditional local event, thousands of people gather from all over the Country to take part (mostly emotionally) in the fervid activities, buy fresh fish and above all to taste the traditional delicacies: breaded carp prepared by the National Champion proudly showing its silver-ish carp trophy, fish nuggets and all possible variations of Czech classics including soups (ideal post-hangover breakfast), gulash and even a decent steak tartar, all fish-based and washed down by copious amounts of the local beer from the traditional brewery "Bohemia Regent" and the ubiquitous “svařák" (Mulled Wine). A generous portion of fried ball-shaped mini-doughnuts topped with fresh blueberry coulis and whipped cream is the jewel of the crown of such bonanza.

The best way to emerge from such a party is a short hike or, even better, a bike trip along the scenic ponds back to Třeboň, relax in a cute family-run pension (we enjoyed the marzipan-cake looking “Pohádka”, aptly named “fairy tale”) and have one more round of beer and grilled trout in the atmospheric restaurant “Krčma u Kellyho”, named after the famous alchemists and / or gifted charlatans Edward Kelley and John Dee.These events go on for the whole autumn in different locations in south Bohemia, like rybník Horusický velký 26 – 29.10, Dvořiště 2 - 5.11, Spolský velký 2 - 3.11, Bošilecký 16 - 19.11. Info: http://www.trebonsko.cz/rozmberk-je-vyloven-vylovy-2015-pokracuji

“Steak tartare” or “tatarák“ in Czech language is a staple of central European cuisine: finely chopped (ideally by knife) raw beef served with onions, seasoning like fresh ground pepper, cumin, mild paprika and Worcestershire sauce, sometimes with ketchup, mustard and a raw egg yolk. Mixed according to individual taste, it is best enjoyed over a fried piece of bread “topinka” with a generous garlic spread and paired with a few refreshing pilsner beers.​As my grandmother would say, not a dish to be enjoyed before going to a business meeting or a romantic date..In Italy we prepare it in a much lighter rendition to preserve the texture and flavour of the premium “Fassona” beef from Piemonte: a gentle touch of lemon (not too much otherwise it “cooks” the meat turning it greyish), a hint of garlic (better if mixed with the meat and then removed), a drop of olive oil and a shave of Parmigiano Reggiano and ideally white truffles from Alba, paired with Barolo or Barbaresco noble wines.

The yearly Czech “National championship of steak tartare mixing” has been organised by Angus Farm, a renowned establishment which adopts “slow food” concept of breeding Angus cattle , local Sumava sheeps, and growing traditional varieties of fruit trees. The forests around the farm and the village of Nepomuk (the birthplace of the famous Saint Jan Nepomuck, patron of Bohemia) are ideal for biking, hiking and mushroom-picking trips, in perfect conjunction with a visit to Pilsen (European city of culture 2015) and its flagship, the Pilsner Urquell brewery and beer museum.

A pool of some of the best national chefs judged the tartar creations of 12 non-professional contestants, who had available a choice of typical central European ingredients plus the chance to add some personal “secret” ingredients. Our Klara won the second price thanks to a typical Italian (better say, Piedmontese) interpretation and a secret mix involving premium brandy.

There are many legends about the history of the “Steak tartare” dish, and I like to believe that it was created as a by-product of Mongol (or “Tartar”) invasion of Europe from central Asia, when these mighty warriors used to keep some slices of meat between the horse and the saddle. Always on the move raiding villages, they had no time to stop and cook and just grabbed this “delicacy” from under their buttocks. A true “cowboy meal”, in line with the typical czech passion for outdoors and vintage western movies. Keep following us for more Cook & Meet adventures!

Vincent Vega in Pulp Fiction was fascinated by those „small differences“ of European compared to North American habits. Travelling around Italy north to south, east to west, you come across so many intense cultural, geographical, linguistic, psychological differences, that you wonder if you are crossing a Country, or a Continent itself.​Take for example Trentino Alto Adige, the gateway to “Bel Paese”.Coming from Austria and its cataplexy-indulging-90 kph highways, you scramble to the first available decent coffee cup together with all your Italian fellow travellers, who need to unleash their caffeine addiction after the torture of seeing foreigners order cappuccino after breakfast or „latte“ after dinner, and you get a creamy „marocchino“ in the first available “autogrill”, where you find more goodies than in the fanciest Italian grocery boutique abroad. As expected, it is perfectly creamy, with a hint of cocoa powder (alas lacking a bottom layer of Nutella and not poured in a glass with the typical Arabic-looking metal frame, but life is never perfect) but served in … German language.The same language greeting you in the highway toll boot, another Italian staple but with a twist of Habsburg rigor. All the road signs are by law shown in both Italian and German language, and I am honestly surprised that “piazza Giuseppe Verdi” is not raped into a “Josef Grüne Platz”. MiniFiats and MaxiAudis ramble along tiny streets, there are more bikes around than in any average Italian town but, after all, sitting in a 4-wheeler honking and moseying your way home is an undeniable masochist addiction for the locals, wearing a number of sandals on white socks unusually high compared to the average of the fashion-conscious Italian dudes.

Crawl your way up a thousand meters of gorges and forests via endless urchin and hair-rising turns up towards Val di Non and an unexpected landscape will unfold in front of your caffeine-injected pupils: endless slopes covered with apple trees, planted in lines as geometrically perfect as a Viennese Spanish Riding School parade, perched atop steep slopes on which misty clouds lay a lace as a stereotyped Romantic painting. A short hike to stretch your legs before dinner and you come across a whole bonanza of fresh fruit in a few inches of orchard: the biggest and tastiest plums I ever saw, bushes con-stellated by cranberries, basil forests, pears with water pearls skin, and apples. Everywhere.

"Applepeople" are the typical mountaineers you might meet in the Alps, Himalayas or Andes: preferring hard facts to fluffy vocabulary, they make you feel at home as soon as they perceive you honestly respect and care about their magnificent world. We spend the night in the picturesque agriturismo “Maso Forcola”, a lovely stone and wood farmhouse enjoying a commanding view of the rolling hills of Val di Non. Asked about the availability of some food for dinner, the owner timidly replies “well… ehm… we might have some local food, you know…. simple stuff… if you don’t mind… like bresaola di cer…” and then you stop them and say YES, yes to everything you have. If “simple stuff” is “bresaola di cervo”, meaning home-mad, fat-free, paradisiacal deer cured meat, you don´t need any other description. An aperitivo drink made of fresh apple juice, local red wine and a sprinkle of blueberries syrup opens a feast of home-made “luganega” wild boar sausages, the typical “mortandela” sausage blessed by an unusual lightness and delicacy, flavourful “Speck”, fantastic aged cheese (simply called “nostrano vecchio”, literally “one of our kind, elderly”) and fresh fontina served with home-made cranberry marmalade, smoked Provola served with fluffy potatoes pancake so similar to the bohemian “bramboracky” but so much lighter being spared the usual oil bath and garlic massage. And their home wine “Teroldego” is as a true red-blood ink, dark, thick, honest, delivering the best balance to such a tasty meal, washing down the protein maelstrom of the cheese platter and preparing your palate for a more delicate “Lagrein”, another autochthonous grape whose sweet flowery perfume and dry taste reminds you of a supreme Spanish sherry oloroso.

After such a caloric injection, we need to stretch our legs and explore the canyon dug deep by the lively Rio Sass flowing below the cute village of Fondo: a triumph of thundering waterfalls, rounded cavities aptly named “pignatte” or “pots” (these Italians think always about food…), a series of spectacular walkways built over a breath-taking gorge leading to lush green forests where you would not be surprised to be greeted by a T-Rex.A few more steps along a scenic canyon and we reach “Lago Smeraldo”, an emerald green artificial pond mirroring the fluffy clouds and deep pine trees forest around. We spot a wooden construction on the other side of the lake recommended by the Rio Sass guide as THE place to eat “canederli”, the typical Tyrolean dumplings originally created to re-use bread leftovers soaked in butter and enriched with tasty local cheese and diced speck or in the colourful version with red beet that we enjoy in a trio, paired with a pitcher of the local fruity white wine.

We promise ourselves to come back soon and many more times to this wonderful part of Bel Paese, but it is time to chew more kilometres towards Piacenza and our histrionic friend Claudio “the Butcher”, for a seriously bloody Tarantinean experience.

Who is the “Lord of the Hams”: Prosciutto di Parma, San Daniele or Norcino? Spaghetti all´Amatriciana shall be prepared with or without tomato? Is buffalo milk more heavenly than cow´s for mozzarella? Was Primitivo di Manduria the wine served at Christ´s last supper? These are some of the life-saving questions which Italians love to argue about, until the end of time. In our Quest for Food Truth we explored the green heart of Italy, from Lazio to Umbria: a land of saints of hams.Spaghetti all`Amatriciana are one of the staples of traditional Italian cuisine: fast, simple, tasty, they epitomize the hearty Mediterranean cooking style. The village of Amatrice in the region of Lazio proudly calls itself the birthplace of the dish, which then became famous in Rome with the “bucatini” variations, a thicker form of spaghetti with a longitudinal hole that guarantee a whiplash of sauce on your Sunday´s shirt.

The legend goes that the local shepherds prepared this simple dish in their mountain coves even before a posse of Italians (Cristoforo Colombo, Amerigo Vespucci and the Caboto bros) put America on the maps and tomatoes on the menus, using the ingredients they had at hand: flour, “guanciale” (cured meat from pork cheeks) and self-made “pecorino” cheese. This archaic version of Amatriciana is called “gricia” and is best appreciated with short pasta like “mezze maniche” (half sleeves), while the classic juicy tomato sauce is ideally married with spaghetti. We taste both at the local restaurant Ma-tru and (as always) there is no definitive verdict: someone insists that the “white” version allows a deeper enjoyment of the meaty taste of guanciale and the intense flavour of pecorino, while the other half of the world enjoys the rich tomato sauce and indulge in the ritual of “scarpetta”, cleaning the dish with a piece of bread. Even about bread we can open a dogmatic symposium: in the regions of Umbria, Toscana and Marche, the local folks bake bread without salt, according to a centuries-old tradition introduced when the local rulers imposed an excessive custom duty on salt sales following ancient rivalries between Firenze and Pisa, Perugia and the Pope, and basically every village versus the neighbour in the best Italian habit. Locals say that this deficit is counterbalanced by the salty taste of cured meat like boar ham, however in our opinion it taste like sandpaper, being aptly called “pane sciocco” (literally "foolish bread").

We leave Amatrice greeting a just-married couple and continue our scenic drive towards Umbria, entering the realm of black truffles and Norcino ham. The medieval village of Norcia sits at the foot of rolling hills guarded by the steep mountains of the Appennini range: unlike other ancient towns which expanded in modern times, the whole city is still contoured by stone walls, possibly creating a micro-climate where one scent dominates: bacon. As soon as you cross the city door you are greeted by a reception committee of stuffed boars, with chandeliers of salami and salsiccia hanging from the ceilings of the many butchers´ shops aligning the pedestrian streets. Even the statue of San Benedetto da Norcia, the patron of Europe and leading figure in the history of European civilization thanks to the educational role played by the Benedictine monasteries, looks like blessing this feast to earthly pleasures.

We spend a lovely evening in a welcoming agriturismo , a restored farm with a magnificent view over the hills of Cascia (another holy place, being the birthplace of Santa Rita) with the owner Giorgio and his alter-ego Eugenio, the local equivalent of Oliver Hardy and Stan Laurel. Giorgio was an IT programmer for 2 decades, then a sailor, then a shepherd and cheese-maker, a saffron grower (saffron is a traditional wealth of these hills, used extensively also in cheese), a walking encyclopaedia of knights & ghosts stories, recipes and anecdotes and a natural-born entertainer. His recommendation to visit the butchery “La boutique del pecoraro” (the sheep shepherd boutique) wins us a tasting of the local delicacies prepared by Mario , a master of knife-shaving: “coglioni di mulo” means literally “mule´s testicles, due to their typical shape of salami ovals filled with a white lard core , a king-size “panino del sindaco” (“major´s sandwich” with triple ham filling),smoked ricotta cheese and the winner of them all, a truffle-flavoured cheese. As every Italian, I also think that the truffle from my homeland Piemonte is the best in the Galaxy, but the locals have their valuable opinion for the Umbrian black type, to which they dedicate (as we do in Piemonte) a chocolate praline with truffle scent, said to be proudly supplied as well to the English royal court.With 2 drops of truffle scent number 5 on our neck, it is time to head downhill towards the sea and Ravenna, world famous for its “piadina” street food and the most magnificent mosaics ever seen by human eye.